


Hurt a Fly

by justmariamay



Series: Kyrie Eleison [5]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: 10 Plagues, Angels, Animal Death, Biblical References, Character Study, Child Death, Cruelty, Gen, God's A+ Parenting, Inspired by Music, Original Character Death(s), Parallels, Prophets, Protective Zachariah, Violence, Zachariah Being a Dick
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-08
Updated: 2015-04-08
Packaged: 2018-03-18 14:52:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,155
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3573764
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/justmariamay/pseuds/justmariamay
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"The last person in the history of creation you want as your enemy is me. And I'll tell you why -- Lucifer may be strong, but I’m...petty."<br/>Zachariah, angel of the Lord.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hurt a Fly

**Author's Note:**

> The song is 'I would hurt a fly' cover by Ane Brun. At some point while listening to it I thought about my favorite douchbag Zach and this is a result.

_I can't get that sound you make  
Out of my head_

Father voice is a strange sound. It’s not even a sound, because it doesn’t sound. And yet they hear Him, when He wants it. And silence. Silence ‘sounds’ awfully like Him. Zachariah hates it. And more often than not he can’t understand what He wants from him. From them.

Sometimes he has problems associating himself with other angels. Only with his six siblings he felt true unity. But he is solitary now. He realized that when he tore Sion apart with his own claws and fangs, swallowing his sister’s corrupted blood and never choking on it. He scattered her feathers that once had a color of baked milk into the wind and thought that nothing would ever be the same. She didn’t scream, she just cried and sobbed as her grace was fading away. She didn’t want to fight him. He had little wish to do so as well. Unfortunately both didn’t have a choice. He didn’t cry. Only few treacherous drops left his sharp eyes.

Zachariah listens. To save people who worship him from slavery. Ah, God plays favorites again. That’s nothing new. 

But angel understands that this is going to be a lesson for all humanity. In time.

Gabriel cheeringly flaps him on the back and Zachariah doesn’t hesitate as he lunges down piercing the space with his sharp wings.

_I can’t even figure out what’s making it_

The bush isn’t making cracking sounds as orange flame rises from the ground. Fire doesn’t burn. Barefooted Moses steps closer and listens to the words Metatron transforms Father’s will into. Moses agrees almost too easily. His eyes burn with righteous wrath and Zachariah knows this man won’t stop. That is why he was chosen.

Moses and his older brother Aaron walk together to pharaoh’s court. Zachariah already sees the difference between them. Aaron’s going to be the only force that will try to cushion the shock of Moses’ cruel resolve.

And yet it is Aaron that strikes the water of Nile with the staff that serves a link with them, angels. Water instantly grows redder and redder, as if blood has replaced it. Of course, it isn’t blood, it’s Dara, angel of rivers, caused the quick algal blooms in the water. Sight isn’t any less terrifying though. Too much oxygen kills the fish and it pops up with their nasty white bellies up. The stench is killing. Water is poisoned.

Zachariah can’t blame Rameses for not being impressed much, his priests and wizards can do few tricks too.

It’s just the beginning. He’s equally excited and disgusted.   

_No one else around even seems to be noticing_

As another season passes the second promised Plague starts raging. Frogs. Thousands of them, everywhere, in every house, in every bed. And Lord, the noise they make! His sensitive ears can’t take it. To him this chorus sounds like a dirge. But people don’t recognize this song.

And then frogs start dying from hunger and their bodies are rotting on the sun. He steps carefully among this decay but more often than not he feels this mucus under his ox hooves. Hordes of gnats are not that surprising with so much rotting flesh around. But as Aaron stretches his hand with the staff Zachariah can barely see through these buzzing black clouds.

_It’s only small enough for me_

Pharaoh is stubborn and proud. So is Moses. They clash as if they’ve forgotten they were brothers once. How familiar. One of them is Lord’s servant, another imagines himself to be a god. And both are equally ruthless. Aaron looks at his brother with horror and wishes they didn’t have to do this.

Zachariah walks down the dusty streets and notices how many people just don’t know what’s going on. For some it’s just another hard day, nor the first, nor the last. They are still working in the fields despite the vicious biting flies that came as the fourth Plague.

_I can’t get that sound you make  
Out of my head_

Egyptian’s livestock suffers from cruel deceases and seraph has much more sympathy for a dying horse than for the man who rides it. Heavy breathe, eyes full of unspoken pain… Grey mare struggles back to her hoofs and falls back on her side without gaining balance rising dust and hot sand. Eyes roll in their sockets nonstop.    

His empathy to animals allows him to feel pure fear and confusion. Animals don’t have souls and still Zachariah can almost hear a silent question ‘Why? Why me?’. He has no answer, no which would make it any easier for this poor creature. Animals, even smart like horses, don’t understand what is sin and why they would be ones to pay for it. Morality, reasoning. It’s not for them. This thing just happened to be a property of wrong man. God’s justice doesn’t exist for them. And they are no more than dust under his feet.

His first urge is to heal. He can’t, he has no right. The second urge is to cease mare’s agony, give her quick death. But he stops himself. His third urge is to leave. He stops himself again. He makes himself stay, crouched beside dying animal.

And he watches the way horse’s muscles twitch from spasms. Listens to pitiful sounds she makes. Smells the illness. Touches the heated skin. And thinks that this wouldn’t be happening if they just killed the slaver. But that would be too easy, wouldn’t it?

Pain and suffering are not less real for them than for Father’s favorite creation. And lack of soul shouldn’t be an excuse. Stupid, loyal, tamed, used. They, _angels_ , don’t have souls too.

He doesn’t enjoy this gruesome spectacle but sees it to the end.

_I can’t even figure out what’s making it_

Pestilence laughs raspy when he hands him a pouch containing the furnace ashes Zachariah has to pass to Moses and Aaron. His thin pale hand is covered with ulcers and sores so angel has an idea what the next Plague will be. The Horseman is looking down from his horse at the seraph curiously. As if he wants to say something.

“What is it?” Zachariah asks exasperatedly. Pestilence bursts into another coughing and laughter fit.

“Do you care, angel?”

“No,” he turns into eagle and drops the pouch to Moses’ feet. He floats above and watches. Moses doesn’t doubt. He scatters deadly powder into the wind. Aaron does it too seconds later. Hesitantly, unshed tears in his eyes, hands shaking, but he follows through.

This time the sorcerers were powerless against the Plague, suffering along with everyone else. They are only human after all. No matter how powerful a man can become, there are forces he can’t fight.

And their gods… they can be impressive but even a common soldiers can hold most of them back.

This time pharaoh promises to let Moses’ people go. Moses doesn’t trust him anymore, but Aaron begs him to listen. Moses and Aaron pray and Zachariah sends angels to mend the damage. And of course the promise wasn’t kept.

_It feels like fingernails across the moon_

_Or do you rub your wings together?_

This time He sends storm. Hail and fire. Raphael strikes her oak stuff to the ground summoning thunder and lightning, again and again, and it feels like earth trembles along with the sky. Uriel sends down fireballs and Zachariah asked Castiel to keep eye on him so he won’t get carried away.

One of the fire bolts singes his upper wing, but he doesn’t mind. He had worse.

The night sky looks like a canvas being torn by monstrous claw. He can _hear_ the screech of the air under those black invisible claws. A blazing abyss opens to him in those holes.

He stares into the sky and doesn’t look at destruction the storm causes and a tiny arm that shows from beneath the debris right next to him.

_There’s a mean bone in my body_

Story repeats. Gabriel raises wind and next calamity is on its way. Swarms of locusts will swallow everything green. It wasn’t that much left after the hail. And still nasty insects are everywhere they can find something to feed on. When of them is caught in his clothes Zachariah simply crushes it in his hand.

Rameses again asks to stop it, swearing he will let them go. He seems genuine. He seemed genuine last time as well and the time before it…

And here an idea crawls into seraph’s mind.

This time he follows the monarch into his palace. As pharaoh sits on his throne someone appears behind him. Not a human. An angel. And Zachariah sharp ears catch every word whispered to pharaoh. Angel feeds pharaoh’s pride, changes man’s grief into anger. Metatron. The only angel given honor to _see_ Father. So this must be another part of the big plan. And Zachariah, who was put in charge, had no idea.

And hours later when Moses comes to his former friend and brother he hears the same answer. Never.

Well played, Father.

_It’s connected to the problems_

_That I won’t take for an answer_

Gabriel appears before him as he lands in the desert. She looks weary, but it’s understandable. The prophet in her charge is a difficult man. Difficult… the man is cruel and a murderer. But God likes him.

“So, ready to put their god into shame, Zach?” she asks giving him a wink.

“Always,” he replies with a smile. His sister and mentor looks at him expectantly. He understands that she’s here not to evaluate his performance, but to support him. Well, he can make her proud.

This time the target is sun, this white disk up there. It’s quite a challenge, but he’s up to it.

He spreads all his six wings wide open and starts flapping them with force, speeding up the movements. He wishes he had something to hold on to, it’s hard to keep his feet on the ground. He raises sand in the air, more and more. He drums until his back and shoulders ache and doesn’t stop. Darkness. Cruel pitch black palpable darkness. That’s what needed from him. He doesn’t stop for hours. Sand fills him: it gets into his eyes, into his hair, makes its way down to his lungs. It scraps at his insides.

And when the greatest sandstorm this land has ever seen is raging, hiding the sun completely in all Egypt, Zachariah is warn, his wings spread along the ground and even in this small circle created by Gabriel he sees nothing. He falls on his knees and feels Gabriel’s arms thrown around his shoulder. A whisper of ‘well done’ reaches his ears. When he extends his hand beyond the thin barrier, sand almost immediately flaws his skin and separates flesh from bones lair by lair. And he knows he’s done well indeed.

_No, I won't take that from you_

This is going to be the last one. It has to be.

They are really going to do it. It’s not that he opposes to it, people die every day. But what is Father’s problem with firstborns?

“Naomi?” he confirms.

“We are ready,” of course she is. She was promoted to seraph status for a reason. But she isn’t like him. She will never be his friend and he hers. She thinks him too human and she’s right. He is, more so than any other angel. Because Father made him this way. It makes him feel more dirty than the fact they are going to kill children this night.

“Azrael?” he looks at another sister. She isn’t as coldblooded as Naomi, she’s more fragile and relatively recently became one of the angels of Death under Michael’s guidance. She looks uncertain and for a moment Zachariah wonders if he will have to force her. But no.

“You can count on me, brother.” He knows he can.

_Because I, would hurt a fly_

Zachariah sees Naomi exiting another house, shaking off the blood from her sword. She smiles when she sees him. The smile is mocking, indulgent. He returns it in the same fashion. 

“Join us, brother?” she offers. He doesn’t wait long to summon his own blade. Slaughter, it is.

They do it quick and painless. One after another. He is the first to reach pharaoh’s firstborn. The boy is 10. He fell asleep on his father laps. And his father is vigilant, gripping the sword with one hand, with other embracing his child protectively. But Zachariah is invisible, only a breath of air in man’s face. He doesn’t even notice the moment his son stops breathing. 

Azrael catches child’s soul and guides it up. Zachariah has to admit that all those pure innocent souls rising up to Heaven make the sky especially beautiful.

 _I can't get that sound you make_  
Out of my head  
I can't even figure out what's making it

Few thousand years later Zachariah sees another slaughter of the innocent, not by their hand, it’s ugly and bloody. Bethlehem is drowning in cries of infants and screams of their parents. More than hundred children are condemned by King Herod. And no. Zachariah is not here to stop it, he has no right to intervene. He’s here to protect future prophet.

He finds Elizabeth with her son John when she tries to escape Bethlehem. He sends Anael to guide and protect them.

Then Zachariah goes to find the prophet’s father. The priest and his namesake. The one Gabriel made mute for daring doubt him. He finds him but not before Herod’s men. The young man is surrounded and interrogated.

His muteness passed after the birth of John. But apparently during those few years he learnt to keep silence.

Angel watches righteous man being beaten and when the blood flows from the slit throat he realizes that he’s fine with it. 

_No one else around even seems to be noticing_

He’s praying. His son is praying and He won’t answer. None of them will, because father made most of them deaf to Christ voice this night. Most, but not all of them. They has to listen and do nothing. It’s different this time. Yes, he’s just a human. But he’s also a brother. A brother who never hurt a fly.

No, it’s not the first time he hears his brother’s plea for mercy. But he sees how hastily Raphael leaves the room and Gabriel follows her worriedly. And Michael…

Michael is down there, right in front of this heartbreaking prayer.

_It's only small enough for me_

Zachariah doesn’t know if he’s here on his own will or Father has made him witness it firsthand. Could be both.

Silver eagle sits on the branch and watches too. It affects him much less than it affects Michael.

Michael’s expression is carefully blank as he watches and listens. But Zachariah sees the little, smallest twitch of lips, subtle change of his irises color, even notices how his hair goes up so very slightly. Michael must be feeling so helpless here and now. It must be the first time when he has no right to give his brother even slightest consolation.

Of course they and sacrificial lamb himself know his destiny beforehand but knowledge rarely made anything easier to accept.

 _There's a mean bone in my body_  
It's connected to the problems  
That I won't take for an answer  
No, I won't take that from you

They watch their half-brother taken away. Peter steps forth for him, of course, loyal, ill-tempered Peter. Zachariah watches with some joy how he cuts a man’s ear off. But foolish Peter renounces his teacher thrice as was predicted.

After people leave Zachariah descends from the tree onto Michael’s arm, extended in invitation. Now only Michael allows him that, and only Michael is allowed this kind of closeness. Because Michael has always been special for him. He was the one who raised them, Gabriel and Raphael were still young and were given to Lucifer’s care. And how patient was Michael with little monsters they were.

As Michael absentmindedly strokes his feathers Zachariah thinks, when it’s Michael’s turn to be sacrificed he would be his Peter. He will be first to protect him and despite the devotion he has for his brother, in the end he will be the first to renounce him. And… if needed he would be even his Judas.

He won’t be the one to decide anyway. In the end only destiny can never be taken from them.

_Because I, would hurt a fly_

Father disappears. Not only Father. He’s just gone, all of him. It brings the questions, so many questions. He won’t answer his prayer. Is it their fault? What have they done wrong? Nothing. They were obedient servants as He made them to be.

Then Gabriel leaves too and it hurts no less. He shouts at Michael blaming him for everything and disappears as well. But they wait. Hours, days, months, years. They don’t return.

And … for the first time in his entire life Zachariah is truly angry with Him.

Michael is rather calm, but Zachariah’s senses telling him that his elder brother is far from fine. And Raphael… she’s breaking. She doesn’t have to show it, he just knows. He knows his elder siblings longer than any other angel in Heaven. If only they would be angry too. But they never are, not really. But they keep it from falling apart.

While everyone cries and prays in futile he finds Naomi. They have something to discuss for Heaven’s sake, so to speak. Metatron among the other things. Zachariah never liked him too much, and after what he witnessed that time between the Plagues he stopped trusting the Scribe at all.

Naomi understands. They don’t have to be friends to work together. And they succeed almost in everything, but questioning Metatron. The paranoid scribe escaped without a trace before Naomi can have some private time with him. Zachariah swears if he finds him he’ll destroy that spider on the spot without any questions. 

But they make Heavens working again, no longer mourning.

_Let you go to sleep_

Step by step he’s becoming something else. He practices more Gabriel’s sort of tricks than blunt force he’s been used to. He even plays with time, which is not very safe, but Michael and Raphael don’t really mind. Because they know that past can’t be changed and there too many variations of future, but the end is always the same. It’s like the game of chess: with each move there more and more options and it’s harder to calculate all of them.

One day when he was on Earth he found a man fast asleep under sycamine. Just a man, nothing particularly special about him. And Zachariah makes him wake up 70 years later, just like that. For no reason. 70 years make no difference for an angel, but for a man it’s a whole life. At first man suspects nothing, but then starts noticing changes, then there is confusion, then fear, and then… acceptance. Man just goes on with his new life, builds a new home, finds a new wife, and fathers new children and tells them his strange story before they fall asleep.

And the truth is simple. There is no beauty in sadness, no honor in pain and suffering, no redemption in regret. So why does he have to live with it?

_Feeling bad as me_

In Persia he meets Ariel. They and Samael are all that remained from their little group. Now there are going to be only two.

They are surrounded by demons, but they don’t dare to step between them. His own two soldiers are ready for the battle.

“Irin, be gone,” he commands and twins obey and fly away, perfectly in unison, like always.

Ariel looks well for a fallen, even with a missing lower wing and tarnished halo. And he is stronger than Zachariah remembers. But Zachariah is not the same either.

None of them hesitate, not like the first time they’ve fought. But as before they don’t use weapon, not against each other. Is it a tribute or they just don’t know how else to fight each other? Blade would be useful if they fought on two feet. But it’s just the way they are. They are more stable on their four.

They beat their hoofs to the ground and rush towards each other and their horns clash, they start to struggle. Who’s stronger? Hard to believe that before the War it was just a game for them. Losing back then meant try harder next time. Losing now means to die. But Ariel always won. He was overcoming, brutal, and Zachariah had to back out before his once brother would pierce him through.

Feline form was more his element, light and deft. And now he circles the black bull, carefully and noiselessly. One mistake and this is over. Ariel rushes at him again and Zachariah barely escapes sharp white horns.

Taking chance he lunges at Ariel, jumping on his back, sinking claws into thick skin and trying to bite through his neck. Ariel thrashes about and quickly throws him off. Luckily he lands on his four.

He attacks Ariel again and again but his claws leave only superficial gashes. He tries to tire Ariel, but his foe is relentless. Zachariah can barely avoid his hoofs and horns. The ground is shaking. It’s a wonder it doesn’t crack open underneath them.

Damn! One of Ariel’s demons gets in the way and he loses speed and is raised on one of those deadly horns. He hasn’t felt this kind of pain for a while. Ariel throws him on the ground making even more damage. He rolls head over hills and the laceration in his side is dangerously generous with bleeding, his liver was damaged. He bleeds his grace out.

It can’t be over… not yet. He is still needed, he knows he is. But he already sees the hoof that is going to crush his skull. No.

He rolls under Ariel and claws his abdomen open where his skin is not so thick. The hoof crushes his leg but Zachariah doesn’t stop tearing Ariel insides, everything he can reach. It’s cruel, so much crueler than the death Ariel would give him. But he can’t die. Not today.  

_Let you go to sleep  
Feeling bad_

Finally his brother lies on the ground in his human form, his five blue-black wings spread wide and he is dying. This time there is no escape. Zachariah’s wound is already closing bit by bit as he lies beside the fallen.

Ariel laughs facing death for the last time, his grace flows from his mouth mixed with blood. Zachariah rolls over to take a closer look. His face is just as he remembered, adorned with long black curls, only painted red with both of their blood.

“Are you happy, Zachariah? Are you happy without us? Does anyone love you? Tell me, my angel,” it’s not fair. Not fair to give a low blow when you already defeated.

“Love?” his voice trembles just a little, “Happiness?” a shaky laugh. “Been there, done that…” he takes Ariel face in his hands, “Look where it got us, brother.” Something clenches in his chest. It’s weird, because there’s nothing there. He shouldn’t care anymore. He doesn’t.

It’s like Ariel hasn’t listened.

“You always were so beautiful… wonder if I’ll see you again… if I’ll see _us_ again…” and the last remains of his impure grace dissipate in the twilight sky.

There is no afterlife for them. And no judgment after death.

 _There's a mean bone in my body_  
It's connected to the problems  
That I won't take for an answer  
No, I won't take that from you

It’s not surprising and yet very frustrating that Michael and Raphael are archangels that stayed, the least capable ones. They are powerful. But also as much as they’ve changed since the very start, some things never change. They are too damn forgiving. As angels should be. But for the greater good there are ugly things to be done. No, not terrifying and glorious like the Flood. Much lesser, disgustingly so. Michael and Raphael would never hurt a fly or even a spider. Not with intent.  

Gabriel was different. He could be downright sadistic. He enjoyed playing with prophets until they agreed to serve their purpose. Not everyone was like Elijah or Moses. Some of them begged for death.

But it’s fine. Michael and Raphael won’t have to get their hands dirty. They have them. They have him. He’ll hurt a fly. Even if he can fight lions and tigers, he’ll easily do that.  He’ll tear its wings and squish it between his fingers. He suspects he will even enjoy it.

_Because I, would hurt a fly_

 


End file.
